The Moment of Decay
by theytalktome
Summary: Randy Orton's life has always been perfect. It's the transition that's imperfect.  Slash. Randy Orton/Cody Rhodes/Ted DiBiase Jr. Dave Batista/Randy Orton
1. The Moment of Decay

The young Rhodes steps into the freezing Missouri snow, exhaling to see the fog in his breath. He blocks his face from the light breeze blowing the snow from the roof as he searches the mailbox for the newspaper, grumbling when he doesn't find anything he's looking for. That magazine with the boots should have been inside. The sun rise had been only hours ago, casting now upon the fresh snow like glitter. Cody admires the way it makes the bare trees, holiday decorations and the road look like a scenic painting.

He turns around, smiling at Ted in the doorway, his bright eyes dazzled by the morning fail to bring a smile to his rich boyfriend, the concern on his face failing to leave. Cody sinks almost instantly into Ted's arms, trying to comfort him the best he can, with out being sexual - something that has always proved tough for him.

Cody's lips barely part as he does not even get the words out to ask his worried questions, when Ted pulls him inside, the door locking behind them. They walk up the stairs quietly, somehow the younger one knows to not speak. DiBiase leads them past their bedroom that they hardly stay in, and they quietly creep up to the bedroom belonging to Randy "Orton" and Dave Batista. They loiter in silence by the small crack of the door, Ted's eyes are painfully closed, with Cody unable to find any explanation in their current actions, and unable to attain solace as they listen to the sounds of Randy apologizing, and the painful sound of something they've never heard before - "Big" Dave is crying.

Never surprised that The Legend Killer "just knows" these things, they hear the Leviathan clearing his throat, and Randy calls the two into the room just as his spouse is wiping the tears from his eyes. Rhodes and DiBiase stare at each other before giving worried, painful nods at one another, pushing the door open and trying to shove each other in "first."

They say nothing, sitting on the bed beside their beloved as instructed. Trying not to make eye contact with Batista they follow his eyes to the phone on the night table. Randy sighs deeply, and takes hold of both their hands, their attention turning to him immediately, their hearts breaking at the sight of his steel eyes. There isn't any way to put it lightly, or turn it into a metaphor, at least not one that he can come up with when he tells the two straight out the information that has reduced his enormous husband: He is dying.

Dave has taken on the roll of sitting up straight, summoning his in-ring skills to radiate some kind of comfort, and use himself as a symbol of strength for the three as he has always been. His striking optics unsheathed by sunglasses, unable to hide the emotions coursing through himself to bare hearing the words "I'm dying" to come out of Randy's mouth… for some reason, more real the second time around.

A few moments of disbelief pass before Cody collapses onto Randy in hysterics, crying wildly into his arms that immediately envelope around him. His other half is staring into the carpeted floors, his breathing slowly becoming heavier, as he exhales harshly from his nose. His body trembles slowly, nowhere to the extent of the other boy. He looks up towards the opposite wall as tears stream down his cheeks, not exactly ready to face the second love of his life just yet, but thoughtlessly glad when he can fall into the arms of Batista and allow him to be his comfort.

It is not until afternoon sets in around ten, and the sun is shining into the bedroom that Ted has fallen asleep laying beside Dave who wanted nothing more than to hold Randy and be with him in the first place, as he has slipped himself almost under him, gently rocking his body. Cody lays awake on Randy's chest, a tear occasionally dripping from his eyes that seem to be frozen open, and his pupils matte within an ocean of bright blue… A strange eerie stare, that could have won an Emmy for best deceased-for-several-days corpse on CSI. No one has said another word since Randy has spoke, until Dave whispers to his Viper that he loves him, and all the other man can do is apologize for the results bestowed on him by his doctor.

Cody finally blinks, his lids remaining half-open as he continues to stare into nothingness. He is almost filled with guilt that he cannot love Ted the way that Randy and Dave love each other in this moment, even through all the violent and rough patches that have all seemed to disappear, or have never even happened at all.

He burrows his head a little more into Randy's chest. He has always been so head-over-heels, quite literally, for him. He doesn't know how to tell Randy, especially now, that he wants to spend every last second with him, taking care of whatever he needed, alongside DiBiase, and being the only ones in his life - but Dave is there; and that's his job.

It breaks his heart to know the one man waiting around the corner to beat the life out of Orton is the one that has to help him through this; but that past doesn't seem to exist anymore.

Rhodes almost feels bad, - when he isn't thinking about the times Ted and himself had to clean up the blood spilled from Randy that the one he calls his lover has caused - that hates Batista, even when he's been so accommodating to let Randy have him, and DiBiase, but it wasn't like he wasn't getting a share of the cut in the bedroom, either.

_The first time _Cody and Ted had ever even heard the name "Dave Batista" they never gave it a second thought, with DiBiase relying on his boyfriend's bedroom skills to wipe that name out of Randy's mind. He wasn't going to pretend he could do the things that the younger man knew how to do with expertise.

Randy had come from Louisville, with his suitcase full of ring gear and his heart left back in Kentucky; he was never one to go home to his own parents, but spend the days he could get away from OVW at Cody's Georgia home with his parents, or one of Ted Jr.'s vast amounts of estates across the country, or countries; rather, his father's.

Randy was laying in bed, amass wrecked sheets, strewn pillows and the bodies of Ted DiBiase Jr., (who had gotten his father to get him a flight immediately from Mississippi to Georgia the minute he'd heard Randy was coming), and Cody Rhodes, firmly attached to his side. Exhausted from their hours of specific endeavors; Ted is flopped over, face down into the pillow, while Cody is drawing circles on Randy's chest with his soft, plush fingertips.

Randy nudges Ted with his elbow, waiting for him to turn over before he confesses in a dreamy, schoolgirl like joy, that he has "met someone" back at training.

Cody snorts with protest before being delivered a deathly glare, and DiBiase swallows the chuckle he was about to make.

Randy's clearly on cloud nine, as he explains his new love to his friends. Cody's idea of vengeance is struck down by the vision provided by Orton, who seems to have fallen in love with colossal monster. He sounds drugged by the idea of the other man.

Cody and Ted look at one another before they look back at Orton, who seems to have become a different person - a romantic person, all because of this one guy - who has yet to ask him on a date.

Randy admits that he's too nervous to go up to the man they call "Leviathan," and wonders if he could use the idea of his legendary father to provide a sense of ability to be hired by Vince McMahon once he is.

Angered, Cody sits up, his waterbed casting waves throughout with his movements. He demands Randy to not lower himself to get used just to get someone to go out with him. He looks at DiBiase with a growl, waiting for him to side with this. Ted doesn't understand the idea of Randy wanting this other man, and tossed away if it wasn't going to happen.

Randy shrugs, and demands they calm down because he has found the one person who he isn't better than - or worse, who he isn't good enough for. He likens "Leviathan" to an unobtainable dream, citing that he doesn't just want to have sex, but an actual relationship.

Angered, they both know Orton belongs to both of them, as unspoken as it was. They had been trying for years to get a stable relationship with Randy, something more than best friends, and something more than sex. Romantic moments came and went, but it wasn't enough to call him their boyfriend yet, he had never been the typical romance novel type of man they _wanted him to be._


	2. Theory Of Revolution

**T**he older man smiles weakly, though Randy cannot tell; he only knows that David Batista is strong, both in physique and mind. Ninety nine percent of him wonders if he is smiling because he is happy about being freed from this mess; and he clings to the one percent of his doubt.

Orton attempts to maintain a smile as he studies his features, loving the handle of those strong tattooed arms being secured around his waist and under his arm to help him walk. Those arms made him obsessed every time he thought about them… Almost enough to understand everyone's strange lust for his own thighs. He grinned slightly and shook his head at himself it was still unbelievable.

Silver eyes jolt open, breathless as he gasps at his failed balance that would send him crashing to the sandy ground. He looks around confused, forgetting completely that he had been outside of the hotel and on the shore of the beach. He makes the fear of falling a bigger realization in his husband's mind than it was before. He hates the constant supervision, and hopes that turning it into a purposeful fall just for Dave to hold him tighter was going to be believable. A scenic hotel for an overseas tour made sex a little better.

Orton sighs deeply as the warm breeze drifts over their skin, for him, he is afraid that he cannot convey his love for the other man who has not abandoned him, though he still expects it every day he opens his eyes and remembers for one more time.

Randy stares off at the sunset in silence to the response of a depressed groan. The clouds settle in obscurity over their hotel just off the sweep of coastline, the sounds of the tides emergence to the shore as well as the birds calling as they depart mix with Dave's profound voice. He does not show the fear of not remembering anything up until this moment, even when the other man is recalling something about this morning, it sounds wonderful, and like many, it is just another memory that he cannot hold close and will soon be gone.

Reluctantly, Orton is scooped into Dave's arms, his body trembling against his will as he attempts to secure his arms around his Leviathan, and willingly accepts a kiss when he is able to do it. He burrows his features into Dave's tattooed trapezius muscles as the sun disappears, they are scented perfectly with the cologne he remembers buying him for Christmas, but he had never worn before.

Through the years, their love had exceedingly declined, until it was an insignificant co-living way of life with occasional passionless, lackluster, same-old sex (if they even had any.) In a way, The Viper was grateful for his illness; for now, he was loved again… or it at least felt that way now.

His mind skips over proceeding events that do not register in any form to him until the moments recognition comes back. There is a voice whispering "Legend Killer" in a taunting, demeaning tone that restores his reality. His eyebrows narrow as he glances over the hotel room, Dave is watching the television, while the clamor of Ted having sex with Cody in the shower fill the vicinity.

His silver eyes glance down; his fingertips are clutched clutch onto a picture of himself and Dave. Unfortunately, he is wearing that embarrassing, but elegant and beautiful trumpet dress on their wedding night; Batista was very assertive on the traditional dress - even for his male "bride." …And the way it showed off his enormous thighs, and the "child bearing hips" Dave used to love to joke about, until Randy actually wanted a child, or several.

He stares down at it, unsure why this had been in his travel bag. He fails to smile, his emotions mixed between guilt, pain and confusion - but he refuses to cry because of it: it was something to be happy about, at least, back then it had been. Desperate to make himself happy, he forces a smile that isn't long lasting, his fingers twitching as he helplessly watches his grip begin to fail. It's decent to the floor is inevitable before Dave reaches out, handing it back and watching as Orton rips it to pieces.


	3. Our Viperidae of Sorrows

_B_attleship optics fix on the immobile rubbers of the desiccated windshield wipers idle against the vehicle's flawless safety glass. Eyes dart up and down uneasily at the large building up ahead before they advancing everywhere but. The green traffic lights ahead vivid against the dark sky before the sparsely lit building are nothing but a burden.

Wavering gaze locks to and from the lines in the street, an oncoming car's headlights making them wince harshly and twist to the window in the passenger's seat until it clears.

Randy hopes, for perhaps the first time since his years of being in a vehicle, that the light will turn red for much too long a period. He takes a deep breath, holding it for a moment as they pass through the green.

He wants to look at Cody in the drivers seat, but doesn't. He wants to hold Dave's hand, but he is not there, and settles to the touch of Ted's palm that comes to rest on his shoulder from the back seat. His fingers kneed gently into his firm skin, ever cautious of his collarbone, even when it did not matter.

Rhodes switches lanes as they turn to the right, headed towards the orange and white security gate. The light down the road turning red and a cuss muttered beneath The Viper's rough breath, why couldn't that have been their light? This car was just a life threatening speed casket. They pull into the intense neon lit parking garage, the few cars making it easy to slip into a spot to get things over immediately.

More abruptly than he expected of himself, Randy gets out of the car before the other two and slips around to the driver's door like neurotic paparazzi just as Cody emerges. He's taken quickly into the skull tattooed arms and pushed up against the closed door, fingers slipping under his shirt as he whispers that he'd like to go back home and start what they didn't have room for in the back seat. Who said his ability to reason was gone? This was perfect reasoning.

Cody grins, accepting fleetingly before realizing The Boss would have hit him upside the head for wasting his time. He pulls away from Randy, reluctantly, and nods his head towards the elevator as he walks off ahead of him. He turns slightly when he hears DiBiase protest to the affection being given exclusively to The Dashing One and rolls his eyes. Randy always found their slight differences in jealousy and yearning for his attention to be everything he had ever wanted.

Ted is quickly thankful for his previous leader's lack of coordination as he uses the excuse to release the briefcase to the concrete and wrap his arms around Orton's colossal sized hips. His predator turns in his arms, stumbling only slightly, and his hand giving a quick slap against that gold-panty wearing ass. He grins slyly, apologizing with a laugh in his voice to the startled look on his seemingly innocent face; claiming his movement involuntary to his disease… knowing well that his spoiled brat would not believe it for a minute.

Fortune's arms wrap around the Viper's neck, pulling him down for a kiss. His fingers roam beneath the neckline of his shirt, curious to the chain around it that interrupted his feel of the smooth tattooed skin. He questions, lifting it from under the shirt and instantly recognizing it as his own father's.

He feels guilty for leaving Randy with him on countless occasions, when he was just too much to care for on the road and they could not take it any longer. Randy's own father had not wanted anything to do with him, and was blissfully unaware of the lack of life unfolding before his son. He sighs heavily, apologizing for unvocal reasons and questioning why he had the Christian symbol.

Orton is quick to pull away and hide it once more, whispering quietly that he is trying to understand again.


	4. Dear, in the Headlights

**T**he room is eerily silent, the sounds of a pen scratching against paper noisily float amongst the five seated in the room. The skull tattooed arms fidget wildly about themselves, from his pointed "Zelda" style ears (as Cody would call them), to his aching knees, which had every right to do so holding up those thighs, and everywhere in between.

Before the large dark Dior sunglasses perched in front of gray ever-darting optics, the stapled papers reflect as they move forward in his direction. His hands jerk wildly on the table as they reach for the pen. At this, beside him Ted picks it up, his thumbs gently stroking over the back of his hand as he slips the pen into his palm.

The Viper's head snaps towards him in fury, his lips curling to a snarl emitting a deep hiss barely audible as he struggles to contain his words in front of The Chairman and his new pretty Scottish lover. He could have gotten it for himself.

The black pen tip presses down on the table, a few moments passing before his eyes are examining Cody's faultless face for a reason not to autograph the papers. His raven-haired lover nodding for the appropriate decision while he signs and pushes them back toward their boss, sliding by the uncouth Scotsman with his sadistic grin, as he sets to take over the top spot now left behind by the man who was once _The Viper. _

With a smug laugh, the older man stands up, collecting the papers, and his chosen one around the waist. Blame and regret immediately shift upon Randy; it had been of his own injudicious fault that he had gotten unhealthy enough to feel the need to terminate his career. He was set to make sure Orton's departure from the company would be his biggest mistake.

Infuriated, Rhodes abruptly rises from his seat, an action quickly met with another superior laugh, and the instruction to sit back down - or get out of the office. McMahon pauses for a moment, composed and careless as he escorts Drew out, telling him that another outburst from Dusty's whore of a son would result in a firing.

Proving that neither contains much of a capability to hold their tongue, even if it was in front of the Boss, Ted attempts to accumulate the credit for the sole armament of Orton. Summoning the boldness to yell at the Chairman, he pushes Cody aside, screaming irately that it had not been Randy's fault that he was an "absolute disaster."

From his quiet seat across the table, Randy just looks up slowly. Revelation and hurt reconcile within him. He can feel everyone's eyes settling upon him like weights. The detestable laughter leaving the room as the matter settle themselves for Vince and McIntyre who leave with only dinner and dessert discussions on their mind.

DiBiase is quick to apologize, going after him as he storms down the hall. He manages to catch the older man as he stumbles against a wall, knocking down several framed photographs lining the walls. He crumbles onto the floor with the shattered frames, his shoulders are rigid as Ted's hand comes to rest on them, kneeling down beside him and apologizing again, attempting with a kiss to be pardoned from his mistaken, but common, outburst. He accepts the silence that he receives, and stands back out of guilt to let Cody be the one to help him up from the carpeted floor.

Outside, Randy walks meagerly as if he had been walking on a circus wire, balancing himself on a tree outside of the parking garage as he walks away from the building and to the sidewalk. He stops momentarily to look back and observe the iconic of what once was his ultimate sacrifice, knowing that for everything he had given to this place, it had only meant he would be a small footnote in that history.


	5. The Ballad of Randy Orton

Cheap, gas station market sunglasses plummet and shatter at the feet of a Legend. He would have knelt down from his seated position in his chair to claim the mess if his eyes had not been studying his son, somewhat seated on the plush couch, held down by his two friends who try to rein in the convulsing body he possesses.

His body had abandoned basic abilities, and his tattooed hand had smacked the dark sunglasses from his pale, despondent gray eyes. They too, dance in his sockets and redeploy rapidly, unsettling on anything as his powerful body convulses. His father soon preferred the sunglasses that presented a trivial evade away from the effects of his crumbling son as his facial movements collapse to that harsh, unintentional change.

"Stop acting like an idiot," had been the first words out of the unknowing father's insolence at his son's bizarre actions. With out the flailing, had it not been enough that he had to turn up back at his home with out a young woman again? Always a solidly vocalized topic from the hypocrite that had bedded with the likes of Roddy Piper, and even his son's own promiscuous Cody Rhodes, and other men on more than one occurrence. Maybe he had made up for his sins with a woman as his wife.

Avoiding eye contact with the young Rhodes had been hard enough, and now he could not offer to look at his son either, but give attention to on an object sitting behind him. A picture frame or that lamp his disastrous offspring had fallen into and shattered upon entering the home. Being yelled at by his father had not been diverse from Dave; and his mother caring and coddling; just as his lovers had been. The dissolution had only been their parental status.

Randy's voice is quiet, teetering as he tries to explain his situation, rather than having his boys do it for him. His arms jerk themselves from the comforting hold on their hands. He had already slipped through his father's hands years ago, trying to request him to his wedding to Dave Batista; and had desired some type of retribution from the loss in explaining that now; Dave had been nowhere to be found for months.

The three had been thrown from their home from someone they had never met, when caring for Randy had become too much of a burden with out any type of indulgence. Fortunately, for Ted, they would have many mansions to retreat to, instead of the streets.

It's a reality for himself to face, dementia having not taken the knowledge away from him, the way it had claimed his ring skills so soon, and times he had waken up with two strangers in bed, rather than the men he had known his entire life. "Dave left," is the individual words from his mouth, though it still manages to slur falling from his lips, even in simplicity. He could not form them in his silent mind to even try to rehearse before speaking.

He could not remember the state he was born in if he was asked. He could not comprehend who had taken his champion title, a man he had worked with for many years, and he did not have a clue.

It is the last time he will see, or even speak to his parents. He signals to the two at his side when he can stabilize his eyes long enough to make them aware of the silent alarm. They help him up when he can no longer find the balance to stand, and take him back to the car. He does not care to look back.

"I'm dying," slips through The Viper's vacillating lips as he makes it through the entryway, his tremors had not allowed him to hold a firm grasp on the handle, just hardly slamming the door behind him.


	6. The Future's So Bright, Teddy

Silence weighs heavy in the air pungent with expensive colognes. Low planes incline overhead the rental vehicle, only the shadows of the occupants had moved in the hour they had drove, lit momentarily every other second with the street lamps as they pulled into the airport. Uncertainty weighed heavy on the decision of conversation for each of the three until a lone Superstar discovered the ability through staring at his vacant eyes in the reflection of the tinted windows.

He speaks with out turning to face them; his monotone voice is low, fairly audible to Rhodes and DiBiase in the soundless car as his lips move like a ventriloquist. They both turn to face him, the youngest only turning away to keep his eyes on the road… Randy tells them an impossible… He does not hear voices anymore. There is a tinge of fear and uncertainty in his voice, with all of the courage to admit it with out making the choke in his voice clear to the untrained ear. Cody's blue eyes meet DiBiase's reproduction in the mirror as he finds a place to park the rental, and they silently question one another for something to say to their love.

Orton's self-stare down ceases as his eyes jerk away unintentionally, his hand taking some time to completely grasp the door's handle and swing it open. He supports himself against the car as he gets out, cursing his severely declined balance and coordination, and yet, with a sigh, he remembers that there are much worse effects ravaging his body to be angry about. His feet plant the pavement with a secure, failed promise.

He sets off into the airport ahead of them, making it just to the sliding doors as the muscles in his legs are riddled with tremors that only make his balance much worse and unbearable as they release beneath him and spill his body out onto the ground. A sigh escapes him with a dry, harsh gulp following. Feeling abandoned by everyone felt more superior to the scrapes on his hands. His depression was lost in the air with the rest of his being, replaced with indifference as he slowly pushes himself back up with shaky arms.

The stinging in his hands releases a hiss from his blockaded throat. They run through his brown hair, his eyes squeezing shut as he mentally searches for a voice telling him what it was he should be, or what he was even doing… Surely, the Voices had not abandoned him also… but if the love of his life did, how could inanimate beings not do the same? Going back to non-existence was better than being with the mentally unstable Viper who served a purpose no longer to their demands. Getting his, release was not supposed to mean ridding himself of his illusory confidants.

His lovers had come running immediately to his aid, asking if he had been hurt, and helping him up to his feet again. Under his tattooed arms, DiBiase places his body like a crutch, and stares up at his once leader with a puzzled face. They repeat their question, their desire to know if he had been seriously injured in his one of many recent falls.

The not-so-dangerous Viper grimaces awkwardly, a reaction he was feigning did not happen, his rapid eyes are confused, looking between Ted and Cody, he swallows hard and continues to glance between them; his head shaking, as he hadn't understood. He questions them back, not knowing what they had been asking, and again not knowing what they had been talking about.

Sitting him in the nearest chair, with a quick examination of his body - with DiBiase giving a longer than necessary assessment of his legs and thighs - proved no real damage. Randy is rolling his eyes, unaware of his fall, pulling Cody to his lips, the fiery passion that should have reserved its self for the bedroom causing Rhodes to shove Ted aside and fall into the Viper's lap. His bitten up lips against Cody's moist, plush coral ones feels like an ecstasy trip he so desperately wanted to have. DiBiase's immediate fight to go from legs to lips with a growing lust tightening his jeans, just caught short of a security agent tapping on his shoulder an arrogant "move it along" and walking off; something the agent clearly didn't want to see or be involved with.

Cody pulls apart, wanting to be the first to get off his Viper so that he could watch the way he walked on their way to the jet waiting to take them back to Missouri. Again, DiBiase becomes a crutch for his lover, sneaking some kisses to his neck while they walk; they're rich and needy, and prove to him that he is still very much desirable and would be ever sought-after.

Out of the gate, they walk towards the stairs when those silver eyes wordlessly stop him. Silver optics search his lover, the certainty in the confession already wondering how to deliver comfort that was not in the form of several rounds of intercourse like a heroin high. DiBiase's pupils turn to infinitesimal points of black sunk in their surrounding sea of bright cobalt, his arm grabbed tight as his body was held against the Viper's; his ears ring with the monotone voice in them… how could Randy want to commit suicide?


	7. Understanding in a Crash

Ted wraps his arms around Randy, snuggling up closely and dealing with what he had said, he hopes his tight grip around his body will help stop the seizing in his lover's body. It disturbs him: the involuntary movements, the way he looks visibly sick with something so obviously wrong, the way strangers and fans would look at him differently. No longer did anyone see his beloved as a human being, they all saw him as a disease; and DiBiase feared he was doing the same as he became consumed by it.

He does not want to seem so shallow, having already admitted to Cody that he was tired of caring for their dearest Randy… Much to the latter's disgust. Their obligation as the ability to care for himself in the simplest of ways had slipped through his diminishing, deteriorating intellect. He looks up to him amidst his thoughts, pulling his face away from the window he's smudging his face into, out of love, or absolute guilt, he kisses his lips and allows him to go back to looking at the building lights on the ground below; and he watches him observe.

"Where are we going?"

"Mississippi."

"What's that?"

"Home."

Randy does not understand.

The fortunate son links his fingers with his lover's hand, his eyes turn toward Cody, deep into a book that he hoped held the key to dealing with the incurable, or a different way to treat what was destroying their lives. He tries to make a little conversation with his dashing childhood-sweetheart, engrossed in the book the raven-haired young man makes no effort to talk as he pens small notes in his notebook... Volume two of DiBiase's revulsion.

He takes the opportunity to stop using his arms as a way to hold down the chorea tormented Viper and sneak the small prescription bottle from the bag. Fiercely protective of Orton, Rhodes ruthlessly grabs his wrist. His grip tight and unforgiving, and Ted's eyes flare at him, refusing to vocalize the hurt for fear of concerning their loved one who seemed so preoccupied with looking like a fool as he shifted riotously in his seat; catching the attention of perfect blue eyes that fill with sorrow rather than rage. He nods an apology to Ted, and releases his wrist; his pupils focused on just how many of the flavescent twenty-five milligram tablets had been administered to Orton… they were helpless as he was dying, trying desperately to decelerate the disease; slipping through their hands as they couldn't help but over-medicate him to the point of being wheelchair bound. Cody scrawls a number on the page, his eyes holding the shock at the number jump from weeks before.

They cannot prevent this. This was not a title defense. This was not him dealing with his now cured psychosis.

DiBiase steals the pen away, flipping to a blank page that he stared at for a few moments. What would be added on the page that was inevitably worse than the pages prior to it? He stared down at the blankness again as he formed a single cursive "R" with the ink between the blue lines; unsettled by the futures horrors, the inevitable realization that things would be worse.

He finishes his sentence, revealing what he had heard - what he wanted to be in denial about, but most days, denial came with waking up everyday. Denial never discriminated; it did not care if he was rich or not, and it could not be paid off; except with a few shots of liquor to start dealing.

He looks at his words and thinks about them from Orton's point of view. He is looking at each singular letter in the name "R-A-N-D-Y" although he can only see the way his silver oculars looked so defeated, distraught, symptomatic and conquered when they were spoken.

DiBiase's initial shock was not replicated in Rhodes; simply and plainly understood. Randy was tired of life. Quietly, a response is wrote back just beneath it, uncertainty shaking his hand; not knowing if this disclosure was the correct thing to do, a uncomplicated thing takes minutes.

The notebook's pass between them is overdue while it is observed, when it finally reaches DiBiase's hands, the words finally read, it falls to the floor, descending onto blank pages. Trauma was worse than his preliminary distress.

The only other person in the world who mattered to him wanted to die… and he wanted their help. He wanted them to kill him before the disease deteriorated him further - as far as Orton was concerned, he had already died; he wanted his life terminated by them, maybe too many pills, intravenous ceased so that he may actually eat something and choke on it - and this time fail to be rescued as they looked the other way. His gun collection a failed afterthought with the inability to securely hold anything in hand, it was too much of a risk.

His only desire was that the two would be with him when it happened. Fearing dying alone felt as horrible to him as being childless did - except when he remembered that he would never want to pass his disease down into gorgeous lineage. His own father relinquished of the neurodegenerative disorder, allowing his offspring to deal with the fifty percent chance of inheriting it. Why hadn't he bothered to make him aware of the possibilities? Randy did not care to ask, and dementia loyally took away his remembrance.

Rhodes places a soft, expensively manicured hand over his boyfriend's after putting away his notebook. Their eyes meet and Cody looks down, shaking his head. He could not be convinced, and there was no way either of them could help take the Viper's life- even if he was not the same person.

Orton looks like a lifeless rag doll against the window of the plane, a few twitches here and there, and then a void of nothingness that leaves his two caretakers wondering which state was best to leave him in. It would have been a lie for them to say that he was even a shadow of his former self. The flailing was heartbreaking. The absence was demoralizing.

Within months, The Legend Killer had gone from only having mild muscle spasms, he only needed some help getting to and from the ring; he could still perform with little awareness of his condition, he could still be the man that they loved. Diagnosis was supposed to be the first step to getting better, but it only seemed to be the cataclysm of things to come. Now they could hardly take care of him, having to serve for basic necessities, and the uncomforting ones as well - where the Legend Killer had completely lost any dignity he had left; bathroom requirements, showering, eating - which had been replaced by a total parenteral nutrition; an unbelievably frightening sight to see.

They did not want to wake him in the mornings - he looked so normal when he slept. Getting him ready was a wrestling match in its self, getting hit and apologized to repeatedly, it was not his fault, and they did their best to ignore it; even if Cody took it to heart sometimes. Their guilt kept them as his providers, having gotten off the house show schedules shortly after the progression of his disorder, and their Monday and Friday nights had been like a beautiful vacation rather than just packing their suitcases full of ring gear and going to work. With a hired team of nurses staying with Randy, Cody could spend the day at the spa before the show, relaxing and being pampered, as he deserved. Ted could go fishing, take the limo around the city and find the best chocolate cheesecake, the most expensive ice cream; the fanciest restaurant to take Rhodes to after the show… the best part had only been the uninterrupted ravenous sex. A new life that did not involve Randy Orton separated if only for two days out of the week. Guilt ridden, though their world had already been hopelessly lost.


	8. We Will Not Reap Destruction

Their wine glasses clink together in a gentle tap above the candle light on the silk covered table. The flame from the candle casting a warm glow over their faces, lighting up their smiles as they laughed and shared each other's lone company for another week. This was something that did not have to end; and they were not letting up on it.

When they finish, they walk to the black stretch limousine hand in hand, smiles still plastered over their mouths and tongues infused with the taste of vintage Dom Perignon. They fall back on the leather seats of the limousine, hips pushing together like a cheap porn movie; and when the limousine reaches back to the hotel, the harlot is carried up to the waiting hotel room, with a bottle of Cristal champagne waiting on ice by the bed so conveniently. They simply refuse the two long stemmed glasses during sex on the finest sheets; though something just seems classy about it when they use them after their bursts of desire turns to fatigued pillow talk.

On the beaches of Cape Cod, bible passages are being read aloud in a quiet bedroom in the mansion. The words of the Lord fall on understanding ears that may or may not misinterpret the good book.

They have lived there for weeks now. The inability to speak, or even want to, forces the two to think that he does not realize they have become the replacements for their sons.

The ex-Viper's cleric and voice of reason is his ultimate caretaker, here by pity or sorrow; the one who made the appropriate medical decisions and kept his and his servant's eye on each nurse that might have even slipped up once; he fires them and hires a more experienced and expensive one. The best money can buy (and then some) for his son's lover.

At night, when he lets the Viper succumb to fatigue, his voice turns from its soft tone from the day to an angry, enraged and mostly, disappointed one. He screams into the phone, as he has never done on a microphone; he is yelling at more than just his son, and his dashing lover… He's also yelling at a friend.

He has been here for almost three months, and has not since seen one sign of his son or his trampy lover since he had gotten a call from Ted Jr. stating that he needed him to watch Randy for the night so they could wrestle on the main event.

He's filling their voicemails with requests for them to come home - not so that he does not have to be a caretaker, but so that they could realize and feel some form of guilt for abandoning the one who loved and cared for them under any and every circumstance. The one who took beatings, accepted bar-fights, took their jobber-status match punishments for their misdoings, took care of them when they got sick and acted like a surrogate -mother, protector and lover all in one. He did not have to stay, but he did through everything that happened, and could have happened. He had a gun collection for a reason; and it was to protect them. He could have left them behind when he found Dave Batista, but he did not. He asked first, and made sure that they were just as happy as he was. When the relationship turned violent, he made sure they never got hurt. Maybe, as a father, he never approved of the three, or four, -way relationship that they all had… until he learned how fiercely protective of his and Dusty's boy that Randy Orton was.

It does not make any sense in his mind, the lack of family, the lack of heart and sense that refuses to register within him. Maybe he had more experience than they, or wanted to use the dying as a way to make up for his own family mistakes; he feels the two are equal, but never voices it. He doesn't have to when it's always the correct accusation coming from his young boy who was only unfortunate in the way that he followed his footsteps so closely.

On several occasions, the elder, legendary DiBiase had made phone calls to the sick boy's father, persistent that he come and make peace with his son before it was too late. He does not understand Bob's cruelty toward his son, when he himself had made the same "mistakes" in his words. He won't let his mother come, but DiBiase can hear her crying in the background to know that her son is helplessly dying and that she may never even attend his funeral or see his gravestone, which sets her into a more horrific cry that sounds like the tragic siren song; painful and already was she mourning her loss. She could set the world on fire.

On several occasions, he lies awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling above and wondering how the boy's father could take the lover his son had in Cody Rhodes, and have sex with him, and still degrade his son for doing the same. He wonders how Dusty could take his own son, and almost as importantly wonders how he could do the same. He wonders how they could convince Dusty to entice his son into a four-way and get a selfish glimpse of Randy's life…

He wonders how he could listen to him crying out in pain from their more than sadistic lust for him and just ignore it with such ease like an annoying dog's endless barking.

He wonders how this could have happened more than once, how he could possibly want more, and prays for forgiveness that he knows he does not deserve.

He knows what would happen to him had Randy had known, and imagines the all too scientific notion of himself confessing, and Bob's son getting out of his deathbed just to kill him and enact justice for the young Rhodes. He has to force himself to sleep until the unexpected events of the next day.

He could not have seen this one coming, out of everything he had to do to be mentally prepared.

The one time did any person close to Orton Sr. come…. Roddy Piper would appear in the doorway while DiBiase is watching nurses administer medicine and keeping an eye on Dusty Rhodes' ass as he picks something up from the floor. Virgil's introduction of Piper is quiet, as not to disturb Randy who twitches with an absent mind; although when the Scot struts in he is as vociferous as he had ever been. His visit is short lived, and when he does quiet down, his only acknowledgement of the decaying man in the bed is that of degrading condolences.

He leaves just as quickly as he comes, likely doing as he had been instructed to. He's only there to pass off an envelope to DiBiase, the contents inside of furrows his brow with confusion until he is told that " Ol' Cowboy Bob wanted his kid to have this," he nods and takes it with suspicion, his fingers holding onto the edges as if it had fallen into something contaminated. Piper appears cheerfully, but leaves with a disturbed and vacant expression at the sight of his Orton's son. He is silent as Virgil shows him to the door.

The elder Rhodes' face is fixed with curiosity as he looks up at DiBiase from his seated position at Orton's bedside. DiBiase looks down at it with an obvious uncertainty, leaving the room to observe the contents for himself, the thought of reading them to Randy first earned it one of his trademark laughs. Did his father really think he was that stupid?

The young Orton never seems to understand anything that is going on around him. He makes an occasional acknowledgement, though he is completely non-verbal and makes no notion that he even wants to communicate… he does not allow anyone to know that he can, as it is just embarrassing and useless at this point. He lets Cody's father fuss over him the way that Cody and Ted used to, and has not made it known, but he is vaguely aware that they have not been around for more than a while.

His fixed gray oculars shift to Dusty, watching him from the corner of his eye as he is set to doing repeated tasks: fixing the blankets and keeping his favorite heating-blanket on a regulated setting, talking to him and telling him stories that he is not even sure Randy can hear or acknowledge. He fluffs his pillow and trying to maintain a form of normalcy and consistence for him.

Orton is hazardous to himself, his weight and muscle diminished; he is not much of a hazard to his caretakers, although there is some dying form of fragile fight left in him that is unexpectedly unleashed. Maybe he will think that he is in the ring, and attempt to lash out; that Dave is accusing him of something, or he has done something wrong in his eyes that makes him try to run. Although he is non-verbal and his expressions are vacant, the fear of not knowing, not being able to comprehend or retain anything cognitive, there is a strong and steady fear taking residence in his eyes.

Dusty Rhodes seems to have the same "just-knowing" skills that Cody has about him. He enjoys the things that his lover's father can pick up on with out having any back-knowledge or very little knowledge of. Orton is implanted with an gastrostomy tube and is unable to swallow food or liquid; he could aspirate… and he wants to. The tube has diminished his appearance, he looks almost skeletal with some shell of his former self still left over on the outside; its being rebuilt by Rhodes… a work in progress.

They both like to watch the shows on Monday Nights to see Cody and Ted; and even not speaking; Randy has made it clear that he does not want to stop seeing them even if they have abandoned him.

There is a bit of uneasy guilt when Dusty snacks on foodstuffs in front of him, but he always makes a joke about it that settles him more than it does Randy. If Randy ate the way he did, he would be just as big as he was, he always says with a laugh; but he still sneaks Randy a taste of his dessert treats with a lick-only policy. It has become something more private that they share together, and Orton does not have to be embarrassed for it… and it is a million times better than the high-caloric substances he watches drain into his body.

Randy thinks its funny how quickly his life has changed on the days that he acknowledges it, and how far away yesterday always drifts away into the memories that he does not retain.

Rhodes is aware that the boy wants desperately to leave the room, however, wants to do it on his own accord. His ability to walk, or even stand has reduced him to the bed, he will not allow anyone to carry him, or be put into a wheel chair in even the most necessary of situations. You could not get him into a wheelchair unless you had drugged him. He still desperately struggles for control on the rare occasions when he is not giving into it.

Embarrassment in front of Cody's father at one point had all been completely erased.

He allowed Dusty to give him a sponge bath, permitting it once had resulted in a usual occurrence; having to be moved to the bath was embarrassing, a struggle, and preserved none of his modesty… and just so much worse when he was being dumped into a tub full of water and proved to be afraid of it. He fought from being humiliated this way.

The instances that his cognition is allowing his mind to process, The Viper enjoyed the warm water and the gentle strokes of the soft sponge under Dusty's soothing and cautious touch. He doesn't mind being dressed by him, he feels more like his action figure being stuffed into gaudy Ken clothes by some girl with her brother's figures than he does as a chore to DiBiase; present with endurance, courage, and out of the kindness of his heart.

The Viper does not have the ability to apologize when he mistakes care, compassion and kindness for love.

If any recognition progress had been made on the inside, it had all been immediately diminished by inappropriate actions and rejection. It does not disclose to Randy what is happening in the room; the day comes and goes while he stares at the ceiling and twitches violently despite his medication being administered to wavering just below an overdose. He begs for the overdose, but words do not leave his mouth, he is desperate to convey the need, but his body does not move. He's trapped looking out absently in his body while it moves to it's own concurrence.

When he does finally move, some time late in the day, he would guess with uncertainty, he makes a huge mistake that he does not understand. Dusty is doing something… one of his repetitive tasks he gives himself to keep busy through out the endless weeks: Maybe he is fluffing the pillow, checking vitals or tubes… He is taken by surprise when he is suddenly grabbed by the lifeless Viper, his shock only greatening when his pouty, plush, carnation pink lips are met with the cold, dry lips of The Viper. His eyes are closed with want and need, while Rhodes' bright Carolina blue eyes are froze with shock while he shoves Orton away.


	9. Bury Me Deep Inside Your Heart

He wakes up screaming; or maybe he had not been asleep at all. He cannot tell. These days, nobody comes into the room when he is awake lying in his bed, wrists and ankles restrained to the railings on the sides of his bed, while he screams. His cries are earsplitting, and ignored. He is frightened and dying. His bones are aching and the chorea thrashing his arms and legs cuts slices into his wrists with the restraints, he is jerking his body upwards to no avail, desperate for an escape. He gasps heavily through his screams, once or twice in between the steady high pitch of his piercing cries. He has seized twice during the night, something that no longer frightens him. He continues screaming while everyone wishes that he would just be quiet.

His pretend family and over-night nurses have stopped coming to his aid during his violent outbursts, his nurses only come to clean up the aftermath, the vomit that soaks his clothes and sheets, the blood on his restraints and dripping down his lips.

He drops back to the sheets, panting heavily but unable to take in any air that is not given to him artificially through his nostrils. He can feel the sweat running down his forehead and mixing with the tears and blood dripping down his jaw line. His heartbeat pounds as loud as he had been in the now silent room: infused with the sounds of the waves crashing against the shore on the beach outside. Tremors shake his previously frozen body and he forgets what it is like to remain perfectly still.

He comes to terms with his idea that he has been more than deserving of his disease; he does not remember anyone saying that he deserved to have it, and has come up with it on his own. The nights that he hallucinates that his husband is there... He can picture him saying it as he holds his massive grip around his throat; squeezing tighter but never gaining any sort of protest from Orton. Batista never makes him say the reasons for why he deserves it, it is just common fact in the mind of The Viper; it was an idea that was obvious to everyone as it was clear that his arms had been covered in tattoos - so obvious that no one had bothered to state it aloud.

He's failed to care for the reasons why he deserved this fate, maybe he had been a horrible wife to Batista, as he always told him, and comes back to tell him. He makes an attempt to reach out, no matter how tight his wrists are clamped down to the railings, and beg for his illusion of Dave to return - he fails to realize that Dave is not real, and had never been there with him in the first place, and his short term memory erases it each time.

The nurses have managed to get Orton out of the bed and into a wheel chair; he has given up his drive to fight, and has lost every reason he had left in the world to continue. He gives in and lets them do as they wish with him and his body. He becomes their plaything as they position him in different rooms of the house, or take him down the small walk to see the outside world for the first time in months, or years; Randy is not sure which, but he doesn't have the ability to think or care about it as it is today or tomorrow… On one day, he realizes he has never cared for the beach. It was nice for tanning, but it was a good time to put his sunglasses on, lay around in his underwear and watch Cody irrigating DiBiase, who never liked water all that much unless he was in a boat on top of it. His face does not allow him to smile at the memories, and those too quickly fade away with the waves…

Another night and it is silent. He lays awake, staring up at the ceiling and appreciating his own silence like his nurses must have. These nights that came where just too rare, he could be silent for days, weeks, and has been for months, or years… whichever one it was. He has not heard those voices that used to consume him, but instead hears the very distant conversation that took place just a few feet from his closed bedroom door.

Cody and Ted had come back! He remembered being ecstatic at the sound of their voices - their real voices, psychical and present, and the only thing in his way had been the door. That damn door! His arms are shaking, and the fact that he cannot hide this, or sit himself up makes him want to give up everything. How could he possibly let them see him like this? Still sick? Still just - not dying- but …waiting for death.

He tries to smile when he hears them, when he realizes that they are telling their fathers that they no longer want them here caring for him. They are going to stay; they are not going to leave again. His heart drops when he realizes that the reason they might be staying to care for him rather than having their fathers look over him is that they had been fired. Maybe they protested against wrestling on the show too much, they wanted to come home so bad and gave McMahon, and his pet Drew - who ached for DiBiase's Million Dollar Championship title belt, an ultimatum about their employment… and gotten fired for their defiance..

Randy chooses to be patient, something that he has never in his life had the skill to be. He waits quietly, and does not try to call out to them with his damaged and raspy voice. He tries to control his facial expressions and maintain the smile that he has in his heart. He remembers the feeling of love, the smell of Cody and Ted's cologne fusing together to make up one primal scent that makes his sex drive go crazy. It is all he wants, they are all he wants.

He imagines their scent, and can almost smell it… He closes his eyes and takes it all in as he waits for the sound of the door opening to reveal his lovers.

They do not come… but he waits. Days later, he is still waiting… a week and he has almost forgotten. His memories are taken away so often, so many important and unimportant things are gone. He would not remember his own move-set in the ring, but he did have some vague notion that he used to be a world famous wrestler… the details are fuzzy, but they do not quite matter anymore.

These days, he lays in his bed, or goes where ever his nurses please; moving him like a Ken doll around their dream house. They used the mansion more than he ever could have, anyway. Sometimes he watches them, observing them like the television they did not let him watch anymore.

He cannot see their bright, mischievous faces on his large television screen, watching them win matches, or loose them. Sometimes he would stare, not knowing what he was watching, or even recognize their faces or anyone else's. Occasionally, he would feel overwhelmed with pride as they held those shinning belts over their heads, standing on the ropes and getting cheered or heckled at by the crowd; he doesn't know why he feels this way for them… maybe he was a fan of Rhodes and DiBiase the way everyone else was? But then, why wouldn't he know what was happening? Why was this so unfamiliar?… He feels disappointment when they loose, or are pitted against one another. He knows he hates that, but he does not know why. He lays awake at night and misses them for reasons he does not understand. He hears their voices outside of his bedroom door, but knows that they are not there… it is the same conversation, over and over. It is so real, but painfully fake.

He sits restrained, wrists, ankles and stomach, all restrained to the wheelchair that only they had the power to move. He sits there, imprisoned on the chair, on the patio, overlooking a beautiful scene while the sun is starting to go down over the waves. He remembers that life is like the airplanes he used to go on every day, floating through the sky so fast, everything around such a beautiful scene, and in an instance, it is all gone and he is back in a terminal, helping Rhodes search for that twentieth bag that he just had to bring… He smiles at that now, but remembers how annoying it used to be, how much he hated it…. How much he hated the scenes around him, as they flew in their first class seats… he never cared. He does not find a reason why he should care now… he is silent in his mind for a few moments, and then he forgets his own thoughts… He sits there, silent, staring… alone and vacant. His mind processes none of his surroundings, and does not attempt to hold conversation with its self.

Once they are done with their playhouse, and no longer his home, he is wheeled back and put into the bed… he assumes. He opens his slate eyes and looks at the ceiling. He does not change his gaze while he feels himself being poked and prodded, moved about on the bed as the nurses go about administering medications and various types of fluid and nutrition to his shaking body. They show him no emotion, he is more of a chore they have to do to enjoy the luxurious home… and for the first time, as the warm fluids course through his veins, he realizes that he is truly and utterly alone. They are there being paid to enjoy the gorgeous mansion, and occasionally pay him some mind. They do not neglect him, but they are not there to care… Maybe one does, but she is more afraid of him in his vile condition than she is acting out of compassion. She will try to talk to him, maybe attempt to engage his silence in conversation - she knows he can still speak; he is non-verbal, though the ability is there. She can hear him talking at night, his raspy, torn apart and shredded voice, hard and gasping out breaths of air from his lungs as he struggles to speak in silence. There is someone he is speaking to, someone that is not there… A faux being that has made him forced into taking even more medications to help stop his plight with insanity. From his history, they know he has a proclivity to hear voices… and so they load him up with even more medications.

When he is woken up for the morning, or shaken into consciousness that does not come from his ever present staring into vacuity. He is lost in his thoughts that have come back to him, while his staff messes with tubes in his stomach and twitching arms.

He can remember now, Cody and Ted… his lovers. They had left him behind to, not die, but wait for his death. Alone. He is aware that there are only nurses in this house, no family and no friends. He does not blame them for not being here, he loves them… he remembers that clearly. He loves Cody, and he loves Ted.

He remembers that he loves waking up in the morning, rolling over and seeing Cody's bright blue eyes flicker open beside him, that pretty crooked smile of his silky soft pink lips that looked like they had been so gently dusted with shimmer gloss. His perfectly manicured eyebrows raised in confusion to why he was being stared at, unsuspecting about being admired for his pure beauty. Randy is not sure why he has on an acrylic mask covering that beauty… not that it covered very much. See-through, as it very well should be. He would smirk when Cody would yawn; his wide mouth becoming his inside joke with DiBiase… Cody really did resemble a Bass fish. To that thought, he remembers his rich lover with his boy scout, charming and innocent kid next-door good looks. Those similar cerulean eyes that blink awake at him, eyebrows arched slightly as he pines for the Viper's attention, crawling around his arm and grinning his not-so-innocent thoughts for the morning's activities that twinkle in his eyes. His cheeks puffed up as he suppresses a chuckle from whatever it was Cody was doing behind Randy's back… He loved to run his fingers through that mouse brown hair of DiBiase's lit up with golden highlights from the sunlight through the fabric hotel window blinds. The way he smiled did more than the window could have ever done to light the room. It was the perfect accessory to any day…

The Viper hopes that before death finally comes that they realize he has been guilty for his selfish actions; getting sick this way, being a burden on them and ruining their lives… He is consumed in guilt… and still…

He loves them.

He will always love them.

He cannot stop, and his fleeting-arriving-gone memories will never fully take that away.

He hopes that some day they will forgive him.


End file.
